Unplanned Fates
by ScribblinDaydreamer
Summary: A generally fluffy story, set in an AU where the nations live close together in a city. Relationships develop, things happen, smiles are given and received. Pairings include [so far]: Romano America, Canada Prussia, Spain England, Germany Italy. A story that will hopefully make you smile.
1. Chapter 1

'Why are we doing this again,' England asks, green eyes sparking with confused irritation as he stares down at his tea. 'Don't we hate each other…?'

Spain looks up from his coffee. 'That's what you said for the first five times. I'm not sure why we keep meeting either, it's never intentional… it just happens, somehow…'

'Except the first time,' England says, looking up. Green meets green as their gazes align. They both seem to be trying to figure the other out, looking for a sign of the hatred they bore for so long. It couldn't have disappeared, just like that, could it?

'I suppose America and Romano being friends started this… this peace?' Spain says thoughtfully. 'And we're continuing it for their sake? To establish better relations…' he trails off. Who was he trying to convince anyways?

England shakes his head, mystified. 'I think we should admit that when we stop hating each other, we actually get along quite well…for some odd reason.'

Spain nods calmly in agreement.

Across the cobblestone paved street, France and Prussia inconspicuously peer through a bookshop window at the two nations sitting at the café table.

'How are they just sitting there so calmly?' France fumes. 'Why is nothing interesting happening? Is my brilliant plan not working? I'VE PUT THEM ON FIVE DATES ALREADY, MON DIEU, CAN THEY PLEASE-'

'Chill, bro,' Prussia cuts him off calmly. 'You're getting all freaky over your matchmaker crap again. Have you considered they might not like each other that-'

'THEY ARE PERFECT FOR EACH OTHER,' France insists, his blue eyes lighting up with an intense passion. 'HOW CAN YOU NOT SEE THAT?'

Prussia raises a silver eyebrow skeptically. 'Five weeks ago, they hated each other. They're working things out because their kids are friends now, not because of your weird romance crap.'

France sighs dramatically, bringing out a handkerchief and dabbing at his eyes. 'Oh how sad it is that you can't see my beautiful French magic taking place in this dull world…'

'Excuse me,' the shop owner interrupts. 'Are you two going to buy something? You've been here for an hour already. This isn't a library, you know.'

'Yeah, we're leaving,' Prussia replies, tossing down the graphic novel he'd been holding upside down. He grabs France and drags him outside. 'Come on, drama queen, let's go do something fun.'

oOOOOoooooI'm still new, how do I add page breaksOoooOOoOOOoOO

'Tomato bastard and the sentient eyebrows… are friends now?' Romano muses. 'That's so strange to think about.' He leans out his apartment window, carefully watering the potted herb plants on the window ledge.

'Yep,' America replies, sprawled out on the couch in his work clothes, suspenders, shoes and all, with his suit jacket tossed over the arm rest. 'That's what Canada told me. He got it from Prussia, who got it from France.'

Romano half-turns to look at him, the warm afternoon sun catching his hazel eyes at an angle that makes them glow. 'Wait. So if Canada and Prussia are together, and Prussia's related to Germany, who can't keep his potato hands off my brother, and you and Canada are related to France and England, and Spain is now… oh god, I can't. It's like the world's most fucked up family tree.'

America grins at him. 'Don't think about it too much. You wanna go somewhere tonight?'

'Yeah, as long as France isn't there creeping on us like last time,' Romano replies with a shudder. 'I don't get why he's so excited about us becoming friends anyways. If he tries anything again, I'm going to shoot him in the face…'

The blonde chuckles and sits up on the couch. 'You shouldn't bother. He wouldn't die anyways.'

'America,' Romano whines jokingly. His Italian accent rolls the 'r' slightly, giving America an odd feeling. 'Don't be such a killjoy, you bastard.'

'Aw, you called me bastard. Does that mean you love me now?' America teases, skilfully dodging as Romano goes to hit him.

'Shut up, Am-e-ri-ca,' Romano complains. 'You idiot.'

'Admit it, man,' America laughs. 'We're totally besties.'

'Best friends?' Romano questions, raising an eyebrow. 'What does that entail?'

'Oh you know, spending time together, watching movies, having sleepovers, talking about feelings and braiding each other's hair,' America explains with a grin.

'Sorry, but we can't be best friends,' Romano says with a straight face.

America's grin fades into disappointment. 'Why not?'

'Your hair's not long enough for me to braid,' Romano replies, breaking a smile. 'Pff, you should've seen your face, you looked like a kicked puppy.'

'Heh,' America huffs in amusement. 'I can't be your best friend either. I don't even know how to braid hair.'

'I do,' Romano says, getting a quizzical look from the American. 'Belgium taught me when I was a kid. I may or may not have braided Netherlands' hair at one point. Thing is, it's really easy.'

'Teach me so I can braid your hair and seal our BFF pact!' America commands jokingly.

'Oh hell no, bastard,' Romano rejects immediately. 'You're not touching my hair.'

'Eh, why not?'

Romano turns pink and huffs, quickly changing the subject. 'Hmph, you and your curiosity, you're such a kid sometimes, America.'

'I'm taller than you.'

'That means nothing!'

'I'm stronger than you too.'

'Oh for fuck's sake,' Romano rolls his eyes. He grabs his wallet and keys, throwing America's jacket at him. 'Let's go somewhere public, with witnesses, where I won't be so inclined to strangle you.'

America smirks, following the Italian outside. 'Heh, I win.'

'Shut up, bastard.'

ooOOOOoooOOoOOOOOOOOOOOooOOOOoOOOOOooo

'Romano! America!'

The two mentioned turn their heads to see an excited Italy dragging an awkwardly stumbling Germany down the street towards them. Romano mutters under his breath in Italian as America waves unsurely at the strange couple.

Italy runs straight to Romano and wraps his arms around him, almost knocking his brother over. He looks up at him with his usual wide grin plastered on his face. 'Buonasera, Romano! What are you and America up to this evening?'

Romano looks down at him awkwardly, but doesn't move to push him away. 'We're going to a restaurant… what are you and, ahh, Germany doing tonight?'

The way he says 'Germany' makes it seem physically painful for him, eliciting a small chuckle from America.

'We're going out to eat as well!' Italy replies, letting go of Romano.

'Perhaps we could join you?' Germany asks politely.

'Maybe you should eat shit and die,' Romano mutters, drawing a shocked 'Ve' from Italy and a wary look from America.

'Excuse me?' Germany says, beginning to regret asking.

Romano glances at his brother, who has already begun to look tearful, and sighs. 'Maybe we should eat, sit and dine. How about Il Castello di Sabbia? It's not far from here.'

'Yes, that sounds excellent!' Italy cheers, grabbing a confused Germany's arm and dragging him away toward the restaurant.

'Nice save,' America says quietly to Romano as they begin to follow.

'I will attempt to be civil to Germany for my brother's sake,' Romano grounds out slowly and grudgingly. America pats his back supportively.

The evening goes relatively smooth. Romano is civil, if somewhat cold to Germany, Italy only cries twice, no one gets shot and no lawsuits are filed.

As they leave the restaurant and begin to part ways, Italy links his arm through Romano's and brings their heads together, their hair curls bobbing on either side like strange antennae.

'Hey Romano,' he says quietly. 'I think you should go visit Spain some time. I think he misses you every now and then.'

'Isn't he friends with England now?' Romano asks, frowning. 'Why would he miss me?'

'I don't know,' Italy shakes his head. 'But I was on the phone with him the other day and he was complaining about how 'America has stolen away Romano' and how you'll forget about him or something.'

Romano rolls his eyes. 'He was probably drunk with Prussia or something. He gets sentimental and even stupider when he's drunk.'

'Romano,' Italy says with an unusual sternness. 'Don't make excuses to not visit him. Just because he's made friends with England, doesn't mean he doesn't miss you. What do those two have in common anyways?'

Romano sighs. 'Fine. I'll make time to visit him on the weekend. I don't get his friendship with eyebrows either. It's weird.'

'What are those two whispering about?' America muses, watching the two Italians.

'Italy is trying to persuade Romano of something,' Germany replies. 'Romano is skeptical, but has agreed to whatever Italy is saying.'

'Woah, dude, how do you know that?' America asks, looking at Germany with a mixture of admiration and surprise. 'Do you have superpowers?'

Germany smiles very slightly. 'Italians are very expressive with their hands. If you watch them for long enough, you will begin to see patterns. Their hand movements are almost like a language on its own.'

America turns back to look at the Italy brothers. He'd noticed it before as well; the way Romano would animatedly move his hands. It confuses him sometimes, when Romano talks, but the Italian's hands seem to be saying something different, like some form of subtext.


	2. Chapter 2

Romano rings the doorbell again. He's not with America today, which makes him feel a bit strange. The fact that he feels strange makes him feel even stranger. When had he and America begun spending so much time together?

He waits impatiently outside the door, tapping his foot against the corridor floor. The door swings open at full force, making him jump at the sudden movement.

'Romano!' Spain greets him loudly, a wide smile on his face. He immediately hugs the Italian, dragging him inside the apartment and closing the door.

'Let go of me, bastard!' Romano complains, struggling. 'You're apartment's such a mess!'

'Yeah, almost like you cleaned it for me!' Spain jokes, letting go of Romano.

Romano huffs. 'Well you're usually a neat freak, so why is it like this?'

'Ahh, I haven't had time to clean it since England was here yesterday,' Spain answers. 'We made a really big mess here…'

'What did you guys even do?' Romano asks, brushing papers and various items aside to sit on the couch. 'What do you guys even have in common?'

'It turns out we actually have a lot in common, you know!' Spain cheerfully informs him. 'Things like gardening, cute animals, playing guitar, even cooking!'

Romano shudders at the last one.

'He even showed me some of his magic,' Spain says, wonderment sparkling in his eyes.

'Oh dio, you don't really believe in that now, do you?' Romano groans.

'But he made this for me!' Spain objects, sweeping a small item off the table and handing it to Romano. 'Look!'

'…It's a paper crane,' Romano notes, beginning to question Spain's intelligence yet again. 'My brother says Japan can make one in 20 seconds flat.'

'No no, but he did it without touching it!' Spain says excitedly. 'He put some kind of spell on it, and the paper folded itself! I saw it with my own eyes!'

Romano looks at him doubtfully, wondering if Spain has experienced some negative side effects from England's cooking. 'Alright, believe what you want.'

'So how have you been?' Spain asks, beginning to clean the room. 'You've been spending a lot of time with America recently, haven't you?'

'Yeah,' Romano replies. 'He's… more intelligent than I thought he was. He's a pretty cool guy, actually, but he has stupid moments too. Just like you.'

'Hey,' Spain objects briefly. 'England says America can do anything he wants, if he puts his mind to it. However his ideas tend to be grandiose and quite ridiculous.'

Romano smiles slightly. 'He says "it's not stupid if it works." Which is true, I guess.'

They continue to catch up as Spain cleans. Time seems to move strangely in the friendly little apartment. The seasons are currently morphing from summer to autumn, a time where the weather is hypnotically warm and calming, with gentle breezes and soft sunlight. Eventually they part ways, after Spain makes Romano promise that he'll visit again soon.

As Romano steps outside the building, someone grabs his arm. He turns to see France and for a moment, considers punching him in the face for startling him.

'You,' Romano hisses, pulling away. 'What the hell do you want?'

'Oh don't be so cold, mon ami,' France says with a smirk. 'I simply wanted to stop you for a chat.'

Romano makes a face of disgust. 'Nothing's ever so simple or non-perverted with you. Tell me what you actually want, so I don't have to be around you any longer than I have to.'

'Aggressive as always,' the blonde states with a wink that makes Romano's skin crawl. 'But I'll get to the point. I want to know if Spain said anything about England.'

Romano frowns. 'Why would you want to know?' he asks suspiciously.

'Don't you think they're perfect for each other?' France gushes.

'You sound like a fucking schoolgirl, France,' the Italian groans. 'Stop this undercover shit. It's weird.'

'You don't understand! I am simply in love with love!' France ignores him. 'Don't you want those two to be happy? Don't you want everyone to be happy?'

'Yeah, everyone except you,' Romano answers contemptuously. 'But if it will stop you stalking me, yes, Spain did mention England. He says that they have a lot of common interests and he likes his magic or something. Now go away.' He quickly walks away to avoid more questions.

'Ah, merci, Romano!' France calls out after him with a grin. Romano flips him off.

France excitedly runs into the building and up to Spain's apartment. He quickly knocks on the door.

'France?' Spain answers the door. 'What a pleasant surprise! Romano visited me just before as well. Today's turning out to be a really good day!' He grins.

'Don't make it sound like we don't see each other all the time,' France says, returning the grin. He steps inside the room to join Spain. 'So Romano was here just before, hm? Did he say anything about America?'

ooOOooOOOOoooOOOoOOOOoooOOOoooOOoOOOOOOooo

Carefree laughter and tinkling music blanket the area; flurries of bright lights and color dance and swirl in captivating patterns. The sky is a clear, pale blue, reaching down to the skyscrapers that surrounded the grounds.

'Whose idea was it to come to this carnival?' Romano questions. He looks at his companions for the day, America, Canada and Prussia.

Canada points to America, who points to Prussia, and the albino merely shrugs.

Romano sighs with a slight smile. 'So what should we do first?'

'Go on the rides!' America suggests excitedly.

'I want to win some prizes!' Canada says, smiling brightly.

'Hey, I want cotton candy first!' Prussia complains.

'Woah, one at a time, kids,' Romano says jokingly. 'We can do all of those. Let's just go see what there is first.'

They set off; Prussia and Canada hand in hand, with America walking beside Romano.

'You're in a good mood today,' America remarks, looking at Romano.

'Well, there's no one here to piss me off,' Romano replies. 'I don't have anything against Prussia or Canada.'

'What about me?' America asks with a grin.

'Oh you?' Romano says casually. 'Yeah, I fucking hate you. You're annoying as hell, with all your smiles and shit.'

'Aww, that's just Romano language for 'I love you so much, America, because we're best friends!' Isn't that right?'

Romano pushes America, making him stumble. 'Wipe that shit eating grin off your face, moron.'

'Hey,' Canada says quietly, stopping in front of a stall. 'I want that stuffed bear, the really big one.'

'You really like polar bears, huh, bro?' America remarks, looking up at the bear.

'You have to win that, you know,' the stall worker says. 'See those bow and arrows there? You gotta hit all ten balloons. You only get ten arrows, so it's quite a challenge.'

Canada immediately turns to Prussia. 'Help me win it, Prussia, you're good at archery!'

Prussia laughs. 'I'm awesome at archery! But what do I get if I win it for you?'

Canada pulls him down and whispers in his ear.

'Seriously?' Prussia asks, his eyes lighting up. 'I'll do it!' He goes to grab the bow and arrows.

'...Do I even want to know?' America asks with a raised eyebrow, watching Prussia faultlessly hit the balloons.

Canada shakes his head with a smile. 'Not even slightly.'

Romano stares at the two brothers in confusion, but decides not to ask.

They set out again, now with the addition of an oversized, fluffy, white bear. As they wander the carnival grounds, the roller coaster catches America's attention.

'Hey, hey, I wanna go on that ride!' he says excitedly, pointing up at the roller coaster.

Romano looks up at the almost vertical drop at the beginning of the ride. 'Alright, go ahead.'

'No, you're coming with me,' America corrects, taking hold of Romano's arm and beginning to drag him towards the ride.

'What? No! Save me, Canada!' Romano calls out, flailing.

'But I want to go on the roller coaster too,' Canada says quietly with a sweet smile and follows America. Prussia grins and follows too.

Canada smiles sweetly at the girl supervising the ride. 'Could you take care of my bear, please, miss?' he asks politely. 'I'll come back to collect him after the ride.'

'S-sure,' she agrees, affected by the Canadian's warm aura.

'Thank you!' Canada responds cutely, passing her the bear and climbing on the ride.

'That was unnecessary,' Prussia huffs, looking rather annoyed.

Canada leans over and kisses him lightly on the cheek. 'I just wanted to make sure my bear is taken care of well, silly.' He watches the albino blush slightly.

Meanwhile, Romano has given up struggling as the guards are lowered down over their heads. He glances over at America, who is looking like a child on his birthday.

'I'm going to make you regret this,' Romano mutters darkly as the ride begins to move.

The ride pitches forward and thoroughly screws over the rules of gravity. America and Prussia are cheering and whooping loudly, while Canada chuckles quietly with a disturbing calmness. Romano is completely silent, watching the world spin and loop-the-loop with wide eyes.

As they come off the ride and Canada collects his bear, Romano is dangerously pale.

'Hey Romano, you okay?' America asks, fixing his hair and glasses. 'You look really pale.'

Romano blinks once or twice as he looks at his surroundings. 'Hey,' he says with unusual quietness. 'Let's go in there.' He points towards a large stall.

'A haunted house?' Canada asks, rejoining the group. 'Sure, why not.'

'H-haunted house?' America stutters, looking at Romano nervously. 'Really?'

'Yeah,' Romano says, a bit of color returning to his face. He looks up at America, his eyes full of sadistic satisfaction. 'You're coming with me.'


	3. Chapter 3

'Hey you two have gotten what you wanted, but I don't have any cotton candy yet!' Prussia complains, pointing at the North American brothers.

'Alright, alright, let's go get cotton candy,' Canada says pleasantly. 'America and Romano, you two go ahead. We'll meet you at the exit with cotton candy.'

'O-Okay,' America agrees in an attempt to be brave. He follows Romano towards the haunted house.

A carnival worker dressed as a demon holds open a curtain for them to walk through, and as they enter, they're plunged into darkness. Dim, mysterious lights offer them some sight. The carnival noise is suddenly silenced; it's quiet, save for the eerie creaking of floorboards beneath their feet.

There's a quick snapping sound, making America jump and Romano turn his head. A fireplace comes alive with green and blue flames, illuminating a Victorian style interior. Dripping, red writing splashed across the wall, reading 'ESCAPE… IF YOU CAN.'

Romano raises an eyebrow. 'They really went all out, huh? I guess this is supposed to be a maze too?' He looks over to America, who seems uncharacteristically tense. 'Hey. Let's go.'

America nods quickly and begins to walk. He's suddenly tripped by something and crashes to the floor with a yelp. He turns to see the arm of the tiger skin rug around his foot, the eyes of the head glowing an unholy yellow.

'AH! Romano, help me, it's possessed!' he yells, frantically trying to scramble away.

Romano huffs and smirks slightly, before walking over calmly. He puts his foot down on the rug, right on top of the head of the unfortunate worker underneath.

'Hey idiot, let go of my friend,' Romano growls, pushing his heel down.

The tiger skin rug releases America's foot with a slight groan.

The blonde breathes a sigh of relief before getting back up to his feet and taking hold of the Italian.

'What are you doing?' Romano asks innocently, looking down at where America's hand was tightly clasped around his sleeve. 'Are you scared?'

'N-No!' America stutters defiantly, retracting his hand. 'Let's go.'

They exit the room through a wooden door to find themselves in an illusionistic hallway of mirrors and distorted portraits. Candles here and there give off a little light that glints on golden frames and glass. Wooden furniture line up between the frames and a grandfather clock ticks ominously. A set of double doors await them at the end of the corridor.

'I bet this hallway is rigged,' Romano says cynically. 'It can't be as easy as just walking through.'

They begin to walk slowly and as they do, they see a white, ghostly shape emerge from a portrait and dart across the hallway and disappear into another frame. Romano lifts an eyebrow curiously as America lets out a high-pitched shriek.

'Did you see that?! It was a ghost!' America yells, pointing with a shaking finger to where the form had disappeared. 'Romano, tell me isn't real! TELL ME IT ISN'T REAL!'

'Holy shit, America, calm down,' the Italian protests, covering his ears. He couldn't help but feel smug, though. 'Well, I don't know if it was real. Let's go take a look.'

'B-B-But, Romano…' America whines. He looks like a scared puppy. An oversized puppy.

Romano sighs and grabs his hand, pulling the blonde forward. 'Come on, man up.'

As they reach the portrait the apparition had appeared from, another ghostly form drifts out in front of them, causing America to accidentally crush Romano's hand.

'AHHHH GOD, IT'S A REAL GHOST!'

Romano cringes, desperately trying to pull his hand away from the freakishly strong American. 'IT'S A SMOKE MACHINE, LOOK IT'S RIGHT THERE, LET GO, AMERICA, LET GO FOR FUCK'S SAKE!'

America lets go, turning to look into the frame with a quiet 'oh' sound. A small smoke machine operated within the darkness of the hidden space. It lets out another small puff of smoke.

'Fucking hell,' Romano curses, stretching out his fingers. 'I'm starting to regret this.'

'Huh,' America huffs, running his hands through a puff of smoke. 'This is actually kind of cute.'

'Yeah, whatever, come on,' Romano sighs, moving on.

'Can I still hold your hand?'

Romano gives him a pointed look.

'Right, sorry,' America apologizes, looking a little embarrassed.

As they walk a little further down the hallway, a cupboard is flung open and arms reach out and grab Romano, pulling him in. He gasps in surprise as the doors slam back shut and everything is dark. As he's pulled further back, he realizes the cupboard is a secret passage.

'What the fuck?!' he suddenly finds his voice again. 'This isn't how a haunted house is supposed to work! Unhand me, you fuckers.'

'Hah, sorry, no can do,' a voice says. A candle is lit and illuminates a small room.

'France…?' Romano says, turning white. 'OH MY GOD.' He begins to scream bloody murder.

'Woah, Romano, calm down!' another voice instructs. The albino steps out from the darkness.

'Prussia?' Romano quiets down in confusion, feeling slightly reassured. 'Where's Canada? Wait… if you are here, and France is here, then…'

'Hola, Romano!' A cheery voice greets. Spain joins them in the small glow of candlelight.

'Yep,' Romano sighs. 'The tomato bastard is here too. It's the fucking trio. What are you guys doing?'

ooooOOOOOoooOOooOoOOoooOoooooOOooooOOOoOOooooOOOOO OOOOOooo

America tugs on the cupboard doors in alarm. 'Romano? Romano …It's locked?'

His panic increases as he hears a blood-curdling scream echo through the walls. 'Romano!'

He spins around, looking for a way to go. All he sees is the set of double doors. If Romano isn't in the cupboard anymore, he must be somewhere close by. As America approaches the double doors, he sees two buttons, one labelled 'ATTIC' and one labelled 'BASEMENT.'

'It's an elevator…' he realizes. 'I'll check the basement first…'

He presses the button and the doors slide open, revealing an interior painted with demons and distorted figures with wide, crazed eyes. The ride downwards is very uncomfortable for the American as he shifts awkwardly under the gaze of the false eyes. He sighs in relief as the doors slide back open with a click, revealing a pitch dark room. The only thing illuminated is the small table in front of the elevator doors. On the table is a basket of torches and identical keys.

A small sign says: 'TAKE ONE OF EACH. WHERE DOES THE KEY GO?'

America shrugs nervously and grabs a torch and key. He flicks the torch on and begins to search for a keyhole. As he sweeps the light around the room, he notices that the room is filled with different doors, of different shapes and colors. Each door is neatly numbered; however there seems to be no discernible pattern within the numbers. America sighs and begins trying the locks, occasionally holding the torch in his mouth so he could use both hands.

'At least this isn't scary,' he thinks, failing to open another door. 'I hope Romano's okay…'

As the key continues failing to open any locks, America grows increasingly frustrated and worried.

Just as he's about to give up, he spots a small, unnumbered door. It's about a quarter the size of the other doors, but with a keyhole the same size.

America kneels down with his torch and curiously inspects the door. There's no way he could fit through there. He inserts the key anyways, and hears a soft click as it unlocks.

He breathes out a small, relieved laugh. 'Alice in Wonderland style, huh? England always loved that story…'

He opens the door to find a panel with a single switch. Holding his breath, the pushes the switch down without hesitation. The room is suddenly brightly lit, revealing a small staircase in the centre of the room, leading up to a door on the ceiling.

'Huh. I wonder how I missed that,' America muses, leaving his torch and heading toward the staircase. He climbs awkwardly up the small staircase, crouching down to read the writing on the door.

'TO THE ATTIC OF LIVING STATUES…' he reads out loud. 'Well if they're anything like the ones in London, I think I'll be okay…' He pushes open the door and continues up the staircase, to the attic.

As promised, the dim attic is littered with statues. However, what catches the American's eye is in the centre of the room, illuminated under a bright spotlight.

'Romano!' America calls out, running over to where the Italian is collapsed on the floor.

Blood pools on the creaky floorboards and drenches Romano's clothes and hair. His eyes are closed and sticky red slashes pattern his skin.

'Romano! Are you okay?! Please don't die, please!' America begs. 'I'm sorry, Romano, I'm sorry! Please don't die on me!' America begins to tear up in fear and anguish.

Romano's eyes snap open, hazel irises looking up at America's face with a satisfied smirk. 'Gotcha.'

'Wh-Wha…?' the teary-eyed American stutters in confusion.

Romano rolls over and stands up, dripping fake blood onto the floor. 'Gotcha, you bastard.'

'That wasn't funny, Romano!' America complains. 'I thought you were dead! Do you know how sad I was?!'

'About as sad as I am for having to sacrifice this shirt?' Romano guesses.

'A lot sadder!' America corrects. 'Like my entire world –no, universe- collapsed!'

'…Really?' Romano asks in genuine surprise.

'Uh-huh,' America nods, standing up to look Romano in the eye.

There's a short silence in the ghostly attic.

Two gray-painted statue arms suddenly come down on their shoulders. 'Now kiss.'

Without hesitation, Romano spins around and punches the statue square in the face, adding more blood to the red mess on the floor. 'Fuck you, France.'

'France?' America stares in surprise at the twitching figure on the floor.

'And us too!' a certain Spanish statue declares, eating a gray tomato.

'To be fair, France did a pretty good job with Romano's make up,' Prussia points out, stepping down from a gray platform.

'Oh yeah,' Romano says, peeling the red slashes off his arms. 'Thanks, I guess.'

'You're welcome,' France breathes in a strained voice from the floor.

'We should go,' Prussia suggests. 'Canada's waiting outside with cotton candy.'

They finally exit the building, with the new addition of France and Spain, attracting many stares from the visiting people.

Canada looks at the odd group; France, Spain and Prussia painted in gray, a still teary America and a blood-soaked Romano, and wordlessly hands them their cotton candy.

'Y'know,' the blonde says quietly. 'Just because I'm used to this kind of weirdness, doesn't mean I encourage it, okay?'


	4. Chapter 4

Romano glances awkwardly at the circle of friends sitting at the table of fresh waffles and tulip flowers. Belgium smiles nervously, Netherlands glares, Switzerland stares sullenly down at the table and Liechtenstein stares at them in innocent confusion.

'So,' Romano starts. 'What exactly happened last night?'

'I invited Swissy and Lily over for a sleepover,' Belgium explains. 'But since Swissy and I started dating, brother suddenly thinks he's not welcome at our house anymore!'

Switzerland blushes at the nickname but maintains his hard expression. Liechtenstein takes her brother's hand, looking a little sad and worried.

Romano sighs tiredly. 'How am I supposed to help?'

'We don't need help,' Netherlands mutters darkly, continuing to glare at Switzerland.

'Well you have a younger sibling,' Belgium answers, ignoring her brother's remark. 'And you're now fine with letting him be with Germany.'

'I don't like it,' Romano grumbles, adopting Netherlands' tone.

'See?' Netherlands cuts in. 'He doesn't approve either.'

'BUT,' the Italian continues, glancing at Netherlands. 'I don't get in their way anymore. If it makes my brother happy and he's being taken good care of, then I don't really have a right to object.'

Belgium nods approvingly and looks to her brother. 'It's not your right to decide who I should date.'

'This guy is dangerous!' Netherlands objects, pointing an accusing finger at Switzerland. 'Look at all the guns he's got! I bet he's armed now. He's crazy!'

Switzerland doesn't reply in the tense silence, choosing to stare blankly at the table.

Liechtenstein suddenly stands up, surprising everyone. 'Don't talk about my brother like that!'

Netherlands looks down at her short figure in confusion. 'Huh? This has nothing to do with you.'

'He's my brother and Belgium is my friend,' Liechtenstein informs him defiantly. 'I care about them. I care about you too. If you let them be happy, you can be happy too.'

Netherlands sighs and places a hand on Liechtenstein's shoulder. 'Look, it's not that simple-'

'Hey, don't touch my sister!' Switzerland objects, glaring at Netherlands' hand.

'Are you serious?' Netherlands glares back. 'Like you're one to talk!'

Romano tenses, quickly typing a message out on his phone beneath the table.

_To: America_

_Message:_

_Trapped at Belgium's house. Help. _

He breathes out in relief as his screen immediately lights back up.

_From: America_

_Message: Be there in 15. Don't die._

He smiles slightly as Belgium directs everyone to sit down and calm down.

'What are you smiling at?' Switzerland snaps at Romano, pulling Liechtenstein away from Netherlands, who rolls his eyes.

'America's coming over,' Romano says, erasing his smile. 'He has some experience too, since his brother Canada is dating Prussia…'

'Who's Canada?' Netherlands and Switzerland ask simultaneously, giving each other another dirty look. Belgium tilts her head in confusion.

'His… brother…' Romano trails off, wondering why none of them knew Canada.

The three of them glance at each other, shrug and shake their heads.

'Canada,' Liechtenstein speaks up. 'He's quiet, super nice, wears glasses and has hair a bit like France and likes pancakes a lot.'

Romano blinks at her in surprise. 'Yeah, that's him. Anyways, America will be here in a few minutes.'

Belgium sighs before restoring her usual cheerful smile. 'Well let's have some waffles while we wait!'

oXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXo

'Ohhh, so it's that kind of problem,' America says, eating his waffles. 'I think France is better at these things than me. Maybe we should get him to help.'

'Oh HELL no,' Romano, Switzerland and Netherlands object at the same time.

America shrugs. 'Well I could probably think of what he would say.'

'What would he say?' Liechtenstein asks curiously.

America points to her and Netherlands. 'Something like: everything would be okay if you two went out!'

Netherlands and Liechtenstein look at each other, both widening their eyes.

'No! Absolutely not!' Switzerland disapproves, slamming his hand down on the table.

Romano rolls his eyes. 'France always takes it too far. Wouldn't the solution be the same if they just became friends?'

'How is that a solution?' Belgium asks, trying to figure out America's idea.

America waves his fork in the air. 'It's the missing link in the chain of love. I don't know, ask France to explain it.'

Romano sighs. 'You guys just need to let go of that stupid prejudice and those sibling complexes and seriously consider everyone's feelings. Try to become friends, you bunch of morons.'

Everyone looks at him as if he's said something very profound rather than glaringly obvious.

'My Romano's all grown up!' Belgium hugs him tearfully.

'Wh-Wha…?' Romano blushes. 'I know I was a bratty kid, but you don't have to be so dramatic, Bel.'

Belgium pulls back, sniffling a little. 'I was always worried you wouldn't make friends, you know! Now look at you, you have your brother and America and so many friends!'

Romano smiles slightly. 'I guess so.'

Netherlands stares at Belgium for a while. He sighs dejectedly, as if making some kind of sacrifice.

'Alright, Bel,' he says, drawing everyone's attention. 'You can be with Switzerland if that makes you happy.'

'Really?' Belgium says excitedly, her face brightening into a cat-like smile. 'Thanks, brother!'

'Th-Thanks,' Switzerland stutters, looking shocked.

'I just don't want to see my sister sad, okay?' Netherlands justifies. 'So you better not hurt her.'

Switzerland nods solemnly, taking Belgium's hand.

Netherlands narrows his eyes. 'And on the condition that when she goes to visit you, Liechtenstein will come and stay here.'

'What? Why?' Switzerland asks, looking alarmed.

'So I can ensure you'll take good care of Belgium,' Netherlands states.

'That sounds an awful lot like holding someone hostage,' America remarks.

Switzerland looks at Belgium, who looks at Liechtenstein.

'I'm fine with it,' Liechtenstein agrees, patting her brother's arm reassuringly. 'I will become better friends with Netherlands and you can spend more time with Belgium. It will be okay.'

Switzerland nods slowly and unsurely.

'Alright, now that the issue's sorted, I'm leaving,' America announces, standing up. 'Romano, are you coming with me?'

'Yeah,' Romano answers, joining him. 'I can't remember the last time I was in a room with so many blondes.'

The blondes being spoken of glance at each other and chuckle a little.

'Have fun, you guys!' America says, exiting the house.

'Ciao,' Romano waves slightly.

oXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXo

'We have the rest of the day together,' America says as they get in the car. 'What do you wanna do?'

'I don't know,' Romano muses, gazing out the windshield at the brilliantly colored tulip fields. 'This is a pretty nice countryside area, why don't we drive and see what we can find?'

'I'm fine with that,' America says with a slow smile, sliding on a pair of shades and starting the car.

They speed off down the isolated road, turning the tulip fields on either side to colourful blurs lined with the ever present wire fence. The noontime sun follows them, faithfully shining down on the car.

Romano gazes out the window at the passing scenery. 'You were driving at this speed? No wonder it took you 15 minutes to get to Bel's house.'

'Too slow?' America asks, flashing a grin.

'No, it's fine,' Romano replies, leaning his head lazily on the chair. 'I can see the scenery better at this speed.'

They continue through the vivid colors, keeping up a friendly banter in the peaceful mood.

'Hey, we passed something, turn around,' Romano suddenly says, sitting upright in his seat and turning his head to try and see the object.

'Was it an ice cream stand? I feel like ice cream,' America states dreamily.

'No, just turn the car around, idiot,' Romano commands, still trying to see.

'Alright,' America agrees, swinging the car around in a screeching drift and driving back.

'Stop here,' the Italian orders. America parks the car and they both hop out, clothes fluttering in the sudden warm wind.

'It's a cardboard box,' America says, raising an eyebrow. 'You must have pretty good eyesight, huh?'

'Well it could've been something interesting,' Romano argues, walking over to the lonely box sitting on the side of the road. 'What the hell is- oh hey…'

'What? What is it?' America asks, watching Romano reach into the box. 'What are you doing?'

'Hah,' Romano says with a triumphant smile, lifting a small, Persian kitten out of the box. The small white ball of fluff raises its tiny arms as if surrendering.

'Aw, that's so damn cute!' America coos, crouching down beside Romano.

Romano places the kitten in America's lap. The little creature stumbles a little and faces upwards at America. Its blue eyes point in slightly opposite directions and it opens its tiny triangular mouth and makes a little 'meep' sound.

'Awww, ain't you just the most adorable thing anyone's seen,' America croons gently in a Southern drawl as he pets the kitten.

'Can we keep him?' he asks Romano, switching back to his normal accent.

Romano blinks in confusion at the sudden change. 'Him…? I guess so. But he stays at my apartment.'

'Why?' America whines, holding the kitten closer.

'Because he's mine,' Romano states simply, taking the kitten off America's lap. 'You're making him look all scared and confused.'

'I think that's just the way his face is,' the blonde points out.

Romano turns the kitten around to face him and stares at it intently. 'Huh. I suppose it is.'

The kitten reaches out and bats Romano's nose with a tiny paw, making him chuckle slightly.

'Okay, okay, both of you stop being adorable and get in the car,' America says, standing up.

'You better have not just called me adorable, you bastard,' Romano threatens, following him to the car with the kitten in hand.

'Watcha gonna do about it?' America challenges, hopping into the driver's seat.

Romano huffs in irritation and gets in too, placing the kitten carefully on the dashboard, watching him turn this way and that in what could be confusion, but it's hard to tell with that face.

'What should we name him?' America asks, pulling back out onto the road.

Romano locks eyes with the dazed kitten, who makes another little 'meep' sound.

'Popcorn,' he decides, poking the kitten and watching him fluff up.

America nods calmly in agreement as they zoom through the vast expanse of bright technicolor flowers.

A/N: just a quick note to say I'm not the kind who updates regularly. Sorry.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: I haven't updated in a while... so... there's that...

I'm sorry. This story doesn't even make sense to me. I'll keep trying though. Just for fun.

That line just summed up my life. Okay. Have some fluff. Feedback would be brilliant, especially ideas/suggestions/requests.

Ring. Ring. Riiiiiing.

America rolls over with a groan, confused and sleepy. 'Wha…? Who's calling?'

He glances at the glowing letters of the digital clock, which read 2:16AM. He grabs his phone before quickly retreating back to his bed.

'Hello?' he answers sleepily, sitting up and holding the phone to his ear.

'HOW THE FUCK DO YOU GET CAT PEE OUT OF LEATHER?!'

America cringes, pulling the phone away from his ear. 'Ohmygod Romano, do you never sleep?'

'Huh? Oh, it's already 2AM… well it is kind of late…mi dispiace…'

'It must be all the coffee you drink. What's going on?'

'Um…' Romano pauses briefly. 'Popcorn peed on the couch. What kind of cleaning agent am I supposed to use?'

'I don't know,' America replies tiredly. 'Ask England… in the morning. He has a cat.'

'How do you even house train a cat? We don't even have a litter box! Oh my god, I'm not ready to be a parent,' Romano stresses.

'What?' America asks, smiling in amusement. 'Just go to bed for now. I'll come over and we'll all deal with it tomorrow.'

'Really? You promise?' Romano asks in an anxious, child-like tone.

'Yes, go get some sleep. I'll see you in the morning.'

'Okay… ciao,' the Italian hangs up with a click.

America falls back onto his bed with a sigh. 'What is he even doing at 2AM…?'

oXoXOXOOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOoooooo

Ring. Ring. Riiiiing.

Romano flings open the door with Popcorn sitting on his shoulder to see America standing with a bright smile and a bag slung over his shoulder.

'Good morning!' the blonde greets him cheerfully.

Romano's head sinks down to meet his hand. 'Mornings… should not exist… come in.'

'Woah, you okay there?' America asks, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. He glances at the Italian's dishevelled hair and clothes. 'Not a morning person, huh?'

'Nope,' Romano replies, handing Popcorn over. 'He's a total shoulder cat.'

'Ah, I knew it!' America says, raising the little kitten up to his shoulder. 'Hope he outgrows it when he gets bigger, though… Also, England will be coming over and bringing his cat with him.'

'Hmm, okay, what's his cat li—DON'T SIT ON THE COUCH!' Romano quickly yells, stopping America.

'You didn't clean it at all?' America asks, moving across and taking a seat on an armchair.

'No, I j-just thought… it's time t-to get a new c-couch…' Romano stutters.

'…Still afraid of cleaning?'

Romano blushes deeply. 'I'm not afraid, damn it, I just don't like it! Who the hell likes cleaning anyways!?'

America smirks at him in amusement, not saying a word.

'Shut up,' Romano huffs. 'Just shut up. What's in the bag?'

'Supplies,' America answers, setting Popcorn down on his lap and unzipping the bag. He flips it over and cans of cat food, fluffy toys, accessories and assorted cat things pour out.

'Holy shit, where did you get all this?' Romano stares in surprise. Popcorn peers over America's knees at the items upended on the floor and makes a little 'meep' sound.

'Amazon dot com,' the American replies casually.

Ring. Ring. Riiiiing.

'It's open!' Romano yells, sitting down on the floor beside the heap of items.

The door opens and England walks in, gently cradling a sour-looking, orangey-white Persian cat in his arms, followed by a happy-looking Spain.

'Romano! How could you adopt a cat without telling me?' Spain demands.

Romano directs his gaze to America with an unamused look. 'You told on me to my mother?'

America raises his arms in innocence. 'Hey, I just called England; I didn't know he would bring Spain along.'

'Good morning all,' England greets them formally. 'I've brought my lovely cat Crumpet with me!'

Romano raises an eyebrow at the unfittingly sweet name for the creature with angry, glaring green eyes. Crumpet was making some kind of strange hissing sound too. America hums obliviously, gently patting Popcorn, who has shrunk away from Crumpet.

'Es el diablo,' Spain comments with a surprisingly straight face, pointing at the cat in England's arms.

Romano nods. He knew enough Spanish to understand that.

'So what's all this then?' England gestures at the mess on the floor.

'Cat stuff that America ordered off Amazon,' Romano replies, examining a small soft toy.

'Do you guys even know anything about cats?' England asks, handing Crumpet over to Spain, who stumbles as the cat hisses at him.

'Absolutely nothing,' America answers, holding Popcorn up. 'But look! Isn't he adorable?'

Popcorn wiggles his tiny arms in confusion, making another 'meep' sound.

England looks down at the kitten, unimpressed. 'Well, prepare to get a crash course. Gather around.'

'Yes mom,' America replies, sliding to the floor.

Spain takes a seat beside Romano, carefully lowering Crumpet onto the floor beside him.

'It's glaring into my soul, I swear,' the Spaniard mutters quietly to Romano.

'Is it really that bad?' Romano asks nervously as the cat growls and grumbles.

'Yes,' Spain replies with uncharacteristic annoyance. 'And it's totally cock blocking me all the time.'

'…che…?' Romano tilts his head with a frown.

'Que…? I MEAN, uh, it's um…' Spain looks around frantically.

Romano looks at the cat, then at England, then at Spain. Back to the cat, then to England, then to Spain. 'OH MY GOD.'

'Shhhh!' Spain hisses at him. 'Don't say a word, okay?'

Romano stares at him with huge eyes. 'OH. MY. GOD.'

'Stop! Stop that!' Spain pleads quietly.

'What's going on over there?' England turns his head. 'Are you even listening?'

'Yes, yes of course we are!' Spain replies nervously with a bright smile.

Romano stares at them wordlessly.

England turns back to Popcorn, holding out another cat item and giving out an explanation.

'You can't tell England, okay? Promise me, Romano!' Spain whispers, grabbing the Italian and shaking him out of his stupor.

'H-he doesn't know that you're…' Romano trails off.

'Just say you won't tell him!' Spain insists.

'Alright! Calm your shit, bastard,' Romano agrees, pulling away. 'But, can I ask… since when…?'

'Well, it's only been a few weeks,' Spain answers, relaxing back into his usual happy state.

'Oh god, I bet France is having a fucking field day with this,' Romano mutters.

'Yeah, he's been really excited since I told him,' Spain says, grinning.

'You told France before you told me?!' Romano protests indignantly.

'Told him what?' England asks, turning around again. America looks up too with a quizzical expression.

Spain freezes up. 'France… um, ah… I told him…'

Romano sighs at the man's inability to lie. 'It's a personal thing.'

'Y-yeah!' Spain quickly agrees with a nervous smile.

England narrows his eyes at Spain suspiciously. 'You better not be conspiring with that frog or I'll hex you.'

'You'll… what?' Spain asks nervously.

'It means he'll turn you into a turtle or something,' America explains casually, used to England's eccentricities. 'You better not piss him off.'

'Well…' Romano pats Spain on the back sympathetically. 'Good luck with _that_.'

Ring. Ring. Riiiiiing.

Spain quickly picks up his phone without checking the caller ID, relieved for a distraction.

'Hola! Spain speaking! …oh, France?' he casts a nervous glance at England. 'Um, I'm at Romano's apartment with England and America.'

'Why was I not told of this get-together?!' France complains loudly, causing Spain to wince and pull the phone away from his ear.

England takes the opportunity to snatch the phone. 'I heard that, you bloody frog. I don't know what you're planning, but if you continue, prepare to be seriously injured.'

He hangs up the phone and passes it back to Spain. 'And Spain, you'll be paying the hospital bill.'

'B-but England…' Spain protests tearfully, giving his best kicked-puppy look.

'You can't make that idiot responsible for what France does,' Romano defends him.

England looks away from Spain, covering his eyes. 'Fine, we'll split the bill.'

'Aw mom, you're so sweet,' America teases, causing England to blush and glare at him.

'I just want him to stop looking at me like that!' England denies, still avoiding looking at Spain.

'He also does that whenever I speak Spanish,' Spain tells Romano. 'I wonder why.'

'I KNOW WHY!'

Romano springs into battle stance. 'FRANCE, WHAT THE FUCK, HOW DID YOU GET IN.'

'The… the door was unlocked,' France replies innocently, pointing a thumb at the door.

'Hola, France!'

'Hey France, what's up?'

'What are you doing here, frog?!'

'Nice to see you all, as always,' France says casually with a lazy smile. 'And Spain, I'll tell you why he does that.' He takes a seat next to Spain and whispers in his ear. Romano glares suspiciously.

Spain turns bright red and covers his mouth. 'No way, France, d-don't be ridiculous!'

France sighs, ignoring England's murderous gaze. 'Spain, for a grown man, you're so innocent minded. Don't you ever consider things like-'

'Okay, everybody!' Romano interjects, stopping England from throwing cat food at France. 'Party's over! You, fuckface, get out of my apartment. You, Spanish idiot, get it together and leave. You, take that devil spawn you call a cat and hit the road. You…'

He trails off when he gets to America, who is still sitting on the floor, holding Popcorn, gazing up at him. 'You can stay. The rest of you, GET OUT.'

'Aww, why does he get to stay?' Spain complains, getting ushered out the door by France.

'Same reason England lets you stay at his place,' France answers devilishly.

'Oh! Because we're best friends!' Spain realizes with a proud expression.

'I thought I was your best friend!' France says indignantly.

'Who would want to be your best friend?' England scoffs.

'Hey, don't push me, I could fall down six flights of stairs and die!'

'I hope that happens!'

'No, France is my best friend too!' Spain steps in between them. 'And so is Romano… and Prussia… and Belgium and…'

'Spain, do you even understand what 'best' means?'

'Of course he does, Angleterre, how else could he describe me?'

'I'll sic my hellhounds on you, frog.'

'PER FAVOR, WHY CAN'T WE ALL BE FRIENDS?


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Apologizing in advance. For everything. Sorry.

-Chapter 6, is it? This story really is 'unplanned.'-

'Hey, are you ready yet?' Romano asks, sitting down on America's couch.

'Almost!' the blonde calls from another room.

Romano sighs, regretting getting up so early in the morning. They have plans today with Italy and Japan to visit Chinatown where some of Japan's relatives run a restaurant. Luckily, Germany is busy today and can't join them. Or so he says.

'We can stop for coffee on the way there!' America offers.

'Alright,' Romano agrees. He casts his eyes around America's lounge, his gaze settling on a pair of square-shaped glasses resting on the coffee table. He picks them up curiously, studying the thin, silver frames America always wears. He raises them up to his face and slides them on, widening his eyes a little at the slight discomfort. He tilts his head this way and that, fascinated by the way the world seems to waver and distort around the edges of his vision.

'Aww, how cute,' America comments as he exits his room. 'So that's where my glasses are.'

Romano blushes and immediately whips off the glasses, putting them back down. 'H-How come you never wear contacts?'

America makes a face. 'I tried them for a while. Contacts are annoying and uncomfortable, especially the dumping of the goddamn Sahara desert in my eyes after a long day.' He slides the glasses over his bright blue eyes and grins. 'I'm ready now.'

'Alright, let's go,' Romano says, getting up.

OoOoOoOoOoOoooOOOooooOOOoOOo

Italy looks around the intersection in a confused manner. Where is Japan? Is this even the right intersection? What if he can't find the way home? Will a pretty lady help him?

'Italy… Italy!' Japan taps Italy's shoulder.

The Italian swivels around and hugs Japan. 'Japan! I thought I was lost!'

Japan stumbles a little, thinking he'll never get used to Italy's enthusiasm and friendliness. 'H-Hello, Italy. Are Romano and America here yet?'

'No, but Romano's always late and America's always on time, so together they'll only be a little bit late,' Italy explains with a bright smile.

'That's… interesting logic,' Japan says quietly, stepping away to check his watch.

'YOUR COFFEE IS BAD AND YOU SHOULD FEEL BAD.'

Italy turns his head at the familiar voice. 'Hey, it's Romano!'

'Heh, well I like it this way,' America replies with an unfazed smile.

'Just…don't try to order for me next time,' Romano gives up with a sigh.

'Romano! America!' Japan calls with a wave. 'Over here! Watch out!'

Romano looks up just in time to see his brother charging towards him at full speed with his arms open. He barely has enough time to move his coffee aside before Italy crashes into him with an over-enthusiastic hug. 'Hi Romano!'

'Help,' Romano chokes out, almost falling under Italy's weight.

America reaches out at grabs his coffee for him, taking a small sip. 'Hmm, yours is pretty good too.'

Romano glares before flailing and pushing his brother off him. 'Hi, Feli.'

Japan walks up to join them. 'So we're all set to go? Chinatown is just a short walk from here.'

'Yeah, let's go!' America grins, handing Romano back his coffee.

The four of them leave, with Italy clinging to Romano and talking his ear off.

'Hey, Lovi, you know Chinatown's really cool, it's not even just China, it's all things Asian and there's so many interesting things, even anime stuff that Japan likes, and-'

'How many times have I told you not to call me that?' Romano complains irritably.

'Eh? Call you what?'

'Oh my god, Feli, stop trying to make me say it.'

Italy grins. 'Maybe you should just accept it, Lovi.'

'You are completely evil on the inside, you bastard.'

'You call your brother Lovi?' Japan asks in confusion.

'Only sometimes,' Italy answers happily. 'Or else he'd kill me!'

'Lovi, eh?' America says with a twinkle in his eye. 'That's so sweet. Can I-'

'Nope. NOPE,' Romano cuts him off. 'You cannot. Absolutely. Not.'

'Aww, but why?' America protests, smirking as Romano starts to blush and get annoyed.

Their exchange is suddenly interrupted with a bright flash. They both look over to see Japan, who is holding a small, discreet, digital camera.

'Oh,' Japan says casually. 'I forgot to turn off the flash.'

'Why did you take a picture of us?' Romano asks. 'We're not even in Chinatown yet.'

'Japan just does that sometimes,' Italy answers. 'He says he likes to study people's behaviour.'

Romano gazes suspiciously at the unthreatening Asian man. 'Well, alright, as long as he doesn't do anything strange with the pictures.'

Japan smiles nervously as they continue to walk. They soon reach the ornate gateways of Chinatown, overdone with lanterns, incense, and posters in multiple Asian languages.

'Alright, this is so cool!' America cheers excitedly. 'Which way should we go first?'

'We'll go left first, I have some orders to pick up from one of the anime stores on that side,' Japan replies. They follow Japan through the busy, festive roads to a cute and cozy anime plush toy shop.

'Oh wow,' Italy smiles, picking up a bunny plush. 'Look Romano, it's so cuuuuute!'

Romano picks up a tiny Totoro plush. 'I should get this for Popcorn…'

'Hey cool, they have Mario toys!' America rushes over to the game character section.

'You three hang around for a bit, I'm going to go talk to the store owner,' Japan says.

'Okay!' Italy calls back, sorting through a bunch of Rilakkuma bears.

Romano goes over to join America, telling him, no, he can't buy them all, he has to pick one.

America pouts a little and lifts up a giant Yoshi plush. 'You could totally use this as a couch!'

'Can't you just pick a normal sized one?' Romano sighs, squishing a small Toad plush in his hands.

'Oh look, they sell figurines too!' America points, suddenly losing interest in the plush toys.

Romano huffs a little at the American's short attention span and follows him, telling him again, no, he can't buy them all, he has to pick one.

'Hey, come here,' Japan calls out, returning with a couple of small bags. 'The store owner gave me some complimentary items. You guys should try them on.'

'Ooh, what are they?' Italy says, trying to peer into the bags.

'Kemonomimi sets,' Japan replies, reaching into a bag and pulling out a bunch of fluffy items. 'Or in English; animal ears. Aren't they interesting?'

Italy puts on a pair of white cat ears. 'Romano, Romano, I'm a cat!'

'You're an idiot with cat features,' Romano says, unimpressed.

'Haha, these are pretty fun!' America comments, laughing as he puts on a pair of floppy dog ears.

'Here Romano, take a pair,' Japan offers, sliding on a pair of teddy bear ears.

'No thanks, I'm fi-,' Romano's reply is cut short by America cramming a pair of bunny ears onto his head. ' America!'

'Oh my,' says Japan, looking distracted. 'Is that Hong Kong?'

'Your cousin?' Italy turns to follow Japan's gaze.

The group turn to see a young Asian boy holding out a Pikachu plush to another platinum-haired boy.

'Isn't that Iceland?' America asks. He glances over at Japan, who is taking pictures again.

'Just look at it,' Hong Kong says, his expression stoic, but his tone sounds amused.

'No,' Iceland rejects, looking barely composed. 'I want to leave.'

Hong Kong brings the plush closer to Iceland's face. 'Turn around, Ice.'

'No,' Iceland repeats, refusing to look.

'Hong Kong, what are you doing?' Japan interjects. 'Aren't you supposed to be at the restaurant?'

'I'm trying to break him down with cuteness,' Hong Kong answers, ignoring his cousin's second question. 'I know he loves plush toys.'

Iceland begins to turn red and Romano sympathizes with him.

'Hey,' Romano calls, walking over, bringing Italy and America with him. 'Why don't you introduce us?'

'Oh, right, excuse me,' Japan says politely. 'Iceland, Hong Kong, this is America and the Italy brothers, Veneziano and Romano.'

'Hello,' Iceland greets them shyly, grateful for a distraction.

'Hey,' Hong Kong mutters blankly, putting the Pikachu plush away.

'China is going to be mad if you're slacking again,' Japan warns him.

Hong Kong waves a hand dismissively. 'I can deal with him. I'd much rather spend time with Ice.' He wraps his arms around Iceland, his expression evilly entertained as the boy freezes up in embarrassment.

Japan pauses and quickly takes a picture of them. 'Fine, do what you want, but don't say I didn't warn you. Also, I think you might like these.' He hands over another two pairs of animal ears.

'W-What's this?' Iceland stutters, taking a pair of fox ears.

'Look, Ice, I'm a panda,' Hong Kong says, sliding a pair of panda ears on and tilting his head with a little smile.

Something breaks inside Iceland's mind and he quickly covers his face with his hands. 'Stop doing this to me! Stop!'

Japan takes a few more pictures before turning to America and the Italy brothers. 'Let's go, and leave these two alone. There's a lot more to see here at Chinatown.'

The three of them agree, looking a little confused at the situation.

'Where next?' America asks, looking around happily.

'We can go wherever we want,' Japan replies. 'Let's see what we can find.'


End file.
